Holes In The Sky

Everyone dies someday.

“But not you!”

No. Even I will die, one day.

“But I don’t want you to die one day. Mommy and Baba might die one day, but you’re gonna live forever.”

Stars are just holes poked into the sky so the people who are behind it can look through and see who they left behind. [Click To Tweet!]

Do you really want that? Do you want me to live forever?

“Yeah. You can’t die, you’re gonna live forever.”

And what about you? Are you going to live forever, too?

“I don’t know. Yeah.”

You don’t sound too sure.

“I didn’t think about it ’til now.”

Okay, well think of it this way. Everyone dies one day, and they can go to heaven. We can all live in heaven together and be happy. Do you still want me to live forever, and not come to heaven, too? Do you want your sister to be lonely?

“Why do we have to go to heaven? Why can’t we just stay here?”

Do you know what heaven is?

“Where people go when they die.”

Well, yes. Do you know what heaven looks like?

“No. Do you? Have you been there before?”

I don’t know, maybe I have. Heaven looks different for everyone. To me, heaven is a garden where we can all play and be together.

“Really? We play soccer and lie next to each other at night when we wanna go to sleep?”

Yeah, totally. Actually, Mamani is there already, waiting for us to come join her one day.

“Mamani is in heaven?”

Oh, yeah. For sure. And guess what – she’s happy there.

“How do you know?”

She told me! I had a dream where Mamani and I were sitting together, and she was making tea like she always did. That’s how people in heaven talk to us sometimes, through dreams. When I asked her if she was happy, she said yes.

“Really? She said that?”

Yes, she said that. She says that heaven is on the other side of the sky. People who are gone like to keep an eye on us, and tell us which way to go when we’re lost.

“Where is she? Can I say hi to her?”

Of course you can. Just look up at your favourite star and wave. Stars are just holes poked into the sky so the people who are behind it can look through and see who they left behind.

“Behind the sky? Like space? So Mamani is an astronaut!”

You’re totally right, Mamani is an astronaut. She’s floating above earth in heaven and looks through the stars to say hi.

“Hi! I’m waving, Mamani! Can you see me?”

I’m sure she can.

Image result for night sky gif
Artwork by heartsnmagic on Tumblr
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Trumpets and Blood Red Ribbons

I love music from the forties for the sole reason that it is heartbreakingly happy. Joyful. Reckless. Their words speak of tragedy, loss, and meaningless death. And parties! Trumpets, drums, high skirts, shaven legs, cigars, crisp white shirts – unstained by war, like it never happened. It never had to happen.

One can easily be fooled if they don’t listen carefully. It’s like a fight behind closed doors;- you can ignore it as long as you turn up the volume of your fizzy television high enough. It’s almost numbing, like the vodka shots they took to raise eyebrows at their enemies, like a bullet straight between the eyes, dazed and smiling. Pretending everything is hanky-dory as some girls with rouged cheeks and devil red lips scream about the injustice of it all.

You’d think it was indifference at first, but it’s really not, not most of the time. Everything is so sinister, that screaming and marching becomes redundant. Choir angels convey the same depression through their sugar sweet voices, after all. Everything is falling apart, they say as they sway through the goddamned day, but then at least, let it all fall with grace. Sing, party, do a jig. Who cares? We’re all gonna die someday, so make it a good one. Go out with one more explosive, whistling bang!